Indianapolis Times, Indianapolis, Marion County, 12 April 1937 — Page 18

Pe.

PAGE 18

By Nard Jones

BEGIN HERE TODAY When Betty Haynes drove off from the Long Beach auto camp with Jack Speddon and failed to return, Martha Brittain first turned to police. But they were little help. So when mysterious, handsome Gerry Neal reappeared on the scene Martha leaned on him for help. And she fell in love with him, Neal helped Martha search for Belty and “his friend” Speddon in San Fran. cisco and farther north but without results. And finally Martha decided that she must not let her ‘love interfere with her better judgment, so she had Neal arrested, charging him with being involved in the disappearance of Betty. Then she sped north, only to find that Speddon had left the state but that no woman was with him, Arriving in Portland, Martha received a strange nofe from Betty, referring to a *Ciznik in Seattle.” At police headquarters, Martha tells her story again and officers say they believe Speddon is carrying her .along “for safety.” 3 Then they add, “If Betty wrote this note from Eureka and didn't come across the border with Speddon, she's probably been murdered.” ; NOW GO ON WITH THE STORY

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ARTHA leaped up, her hand to her throat. “Betty murdered? Oh, no . . no!” Marshall, alarmed at the results | of his tactlessness, hurried around | his desk to comfort her. “Now, | now. That's just a theory. ut | this Ciznik is bad medicine.” He | pushed her gently down into the | chair again. "Pull yourself togeth- | er. We'll get right after this.” ' | “But what can I do?” Martha | pleaded. “This is all my fault, and | I—I've got to do something.” { -Marshall smiled. “There's not a | thing in the world for you to do, | Miss Brittain. ust leave everything to us.” . “There's something else I want | to tell you,” she paid slowly. “I—!

ROM Portland to Seattle is a relatively easy jaunt by automobile, but to Martha it seemed a tremendous distance. Although she drove as swiftly as she dared with safety, the miles dragged by endlessly. To her it was years before she reached the teeming lumber town of Longview, creeped through the traffic of Kelso. Even when she had passed the State capital of Olympia, skirted the thriving factories of Tacomas tideflats, and knew that Seattle was only an hour away, it seemed to her that she would never reach the place. But the wide, four-car highway was helpful, and at last Martha ‘and her outfit were rolling up Second Ave, heading for the Denny regrade district where Sloss had inaicated she would find the Yukon Parking Block. And there, as she had anticipated, the attendant handed her an airmail letter from San Diego. It was from Sloss—andsthere was no check attached. The letter itself was

Twith relief.

brief: “This is to notify you that, due to your total disregard of my instructions, the services of yourseif and Miss Haynes will no longer be required. A representative, identified by a letter from me, will call on you at the Yukon Parking Block and you will immediately turn over the equipment to him.” Martha received the news almost Indeed, she looked forward to the visit of Sloss’ representative—and she had not long to wait. She had no sooner finished a hurried lunch in the trailer’s galley than, looking from the window, she saw a thing, mustached individual walking toward the outfit. She opened the trailer door expectantly—and suddenly recognized that the man was Jack Speddon! The mustache and cap failed to conceal the scrawny features she remembered too. well. Desperately Martha leaped to the ground, clutcher Speddon’s arm, and opened her mouth to scream for assistance.

(To Be Continued)

¥ Daily Short Story

STAMP THIEF—By Frederic Arnold Kummer Jr.

HE day was hot. Bergen, wiping the perspiration from his brow, sat in the broad window seat, his eyes fixed on the sunlit drivewav beneath. A month ago, he had read a newspaper article about Philip Reeves, millionaire stamp collector, who had recently acquired an uncancelled Cape of Good Hope Triangular. Bergen knew = nothing = about stamps, but when he had read that this one stamp was worth $20,000, it

I didn’t mention it before.” [had made him think. Twenty grand! 1 see , ... fe looked at her If only he could steal that tiny curiously. “What [is it?” | scrap of paper! He could flee to Eu“Have vou heard of a man called | rope and sell it there. —called Gerry Neal?” | His preparations for the theft had © «Neal? Gerry Neal?” Marshall's been expensive—the high rent of red forehead wrinkled. “No. What | this small apartment he had taken about him?” T jSiauny poove Reovey Jing the s hi i i | exclusive Lancaster Arms, the preLe SEN um for In gon DU | tense of wealth he had been obliged 1 {to assume.

left with the trailer. He was trying to get into Th : : a en, too, it had been hard to our apartment, but ne sald he 1904 | scrape up a neighborly acquaintance

ANIC gripped him. He leaped across the room, and dashed out of the apartment, slamming the door behind him. He ran along the corridor to the stairs. = Downward, flight after flight, blindly, scarcely what he was doing. At the third floor, he caught sight of himself in a mirror. Collar undone, his linen suit wrinkled and awry, gloves on his hands He tore the gloves off, and rearranged his disheveled clothing. Then, fully wiping the fingerprints from his gun, he threw it into ‘a trash can. With assumed coolness, he continued down the stairs to the lobby. He found it deserted. Wearily, he sank into the first chair he saw, and lit a cigarette. What a mess! Murder . . . and for nothing! He had a strong impulse to flee, but flight would mark him as the murderer. - No, the only thing to

care-

in the apartment above and Hii | with Reeves—he had been forced to made 2 mise A ee IM | pretend an amateurish interest in | on the road an k m up. inns, “Go ahead,” Marshall said. | b ian

Hesitantly complied. oo : a : : | QUDDENLY, Bergen bent forward. telling how Neal had hig himissé A car had entered the drive, and

s : . ! in the trailer, turned up later at stopped before the apartment hotel. |

Monterey, and hoy he had claimed | He saw the chauffeur leap out and

LR i Speddont open the door—saw Reeves step out.

“. of

“Okay,” Marshall interrupted. ‘I got it. Pretty smooth apple. eh? Sort of took you aver the hurdles.” | | Heedless of Martha's crimson flush, " he grabbed up the telephone in a | | ham-like paw. “You say you had! him jugged at Eureka?” “Y-yes.” | ” " ” ORGETTING her, Marshall got long-distance, was connected | with the Eureka police. After a short wait, he barked into the tele- | phone. “This is Marshall at Portland. Yeah... , . You got a Ger- | ry Neal down there?” There was | a long .pause while Marshall” lis- |

tened attentively. Then: “I see,” | he said slowly. "Thanks a lot.” He banged the receiver noisily. | “They sprung him out. Didnt have anything on him except that | he was annoying you and carry- | ing a revolver without a permit. | By now he could be on. his way | to China.” He looked at Martha. | “I got a ‘hunch you're relieved. | But that's neither here nor there. | We'll get going on this. You get | some rest.” “But I can’t just stand by while | Betty—"” Her voice choked inte | silence. “I'm going to Seattle.” - | “Why?” | Martha's eyes narrowed grimly. | “I'll tell you why. I want to find | Speddon. And I'm going to find him if it’s the last thing 1 ever do!” Marshall laughed. “You ain't got | much of a chance to find him, | Miss Brittain. And if you do find | him it probably will be the last thing you ever do.” “But I'm going to try.” “All right,” Marshall shrugged. “Better check in with the police up there. You might be needed.” Martha hesitated. “This Ciznik who's apparently the ring-leader, what does he do?” “Johnny Ciznik? knows what it is now. That's what I'd like to.find*out. You're liable to find Johnny Ciznik doing any-; thing—so long as it's not on the up and up.” “And—and Neal is in with him, too?” . A curious expression. came over Marshall's face. “Well,” he said, “what do you think?” >

# # " -

ARTHA'S spirit would have started her toward Seattle at once. But sheer physical weariness dictated that she should sleep— .sleep despite her fears for Betty, her terrible feeling of the hopelessness of her task. She had told Marshall that she intended to find Speddon. But how—how in a city of 350,000 souls would she find a man who wanted above everything else not to be found? Yet, gloriously, Martha intended to try. : She would have been happier in her sleep that night if she had known that, from the moment she had driven out of San Diego, it was planned that she would meet Speddon in Seattle—that, so certainly had she enmeshed herself in circumstances beyond her control, could never avoid it. She was up early, before any of the other occupants of the Rose + City Trailer Haven were stirring. At first she had expected to hear _ from Sloss, but remembered "that his messages would be at some of the smaller towns south of her— where she had failed to stop. She knew that in Seattle she | © would be. likely to hear from him again, and this time, no doubt there would be no check for salary or expenses. > Certainly she had to admit that, except for her brief time in San Francisco and Oakland, her work for the Airspeed Trailer Company had turned out to be a colossal failure. That was unimportant now. . It meant nothing against the safety Betty Haynes. Martha told herIf that gladly she would make it pn to Arnold Sloss as best she could _put only after she - had found ‘getty . . . if, indeed, she could ever

The Lord only

she |

At last! In a few minutes, he would go down to Reeves apartment, ostensibly to pay a call. $ He slipped his gun into the pocket of his white linen jacket. That would force Reeves to hand over the stamp. | Then he had only to tie the col- | lector up, lock him in‘ a closet, and | make his getaway.| He knew it was the valet's day off} Hence, Reeves would not be discovered until the i do morning. By which time, he, Bergen, would be far away from the Lancaster Arms.

2g al =n E waited 10 nen then left his apartment, and made his way down the stairs to the next floor. He rang the bell of Reeves’ apartment. | A moment later, the collector had opened ‘the door. | “Yes, Mr. Bergen?” “Just dropped by to say hello.” Bergen's manner [was deferential. “You were saying the other day’ that you'd show me your collection. I'm especially curious to see that famous Cape of Good Hope Triangular, so I thought, if you weren't too busy . ..” “Glad to show philatelists always our prizes.” Reeves “Come in.” Bergen followed him into the apartment. A large flat-topped desk at one side of the living room was piled high with pamphlets, papers, and dozens of loose, unmounted stamps. Near the desk, was a wall safe, its door half open. ” n E-4 EEVES groped in the safe for a moment. “Let's see now. Ah, here we are!” He cleared a space on the desk, laid a small, three-cornered stamp down, and motioned Bergen to a position beside him. “The interesting feature of this Cape of Good Hope is that it was printed by mistake on paper meant for the postage of other British colonies.” § “Hum,” Bergen murmured, grasping the gun in his coat pocket. “Now, on turning it over, you will notice that, on the gummed side... J] Reeves broke off suddenly, staring in blank surprise at the automatic in his visitor's hand. “Put 'em up!” Bergen snapped.

td # 2

EEVES’ eyes flamed in sudden anger. With an amazingly swift movement, he clutched Bergen's right wrist, deflected the weapon. Instantly, Bergen reached out with his left hand and seized Reeves by the throat, stifling his cries for help. In a desperate struggle, the two men swayed across the desk top. : Bergen, finding himself at a disadvantage because of the other man’s longer reach, rolled over backwards upon the desk. This sudden action broke Reeves’ grip on Bergen’s right wrist. Before he could regain it, Bergen fired. The collector staggered back, then slumped to the floor.

it to you. We like te exhibit chuckled.

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ERGEN, perspiring, stood motionless for a moment, then bent to feel Reeves’ wrist. There was no pulse! Murder . . . for a stamp! The chair! With a shudder, he straightened up, glanced at the desk top. In the struggle, it had been swept clean. Hastily, he pocketed his gun, drew (on a: pair, of gloves, and began to paw frantically over the jumble of papers and stamps which covered the floor. He examined each stamp, his fingers trembling, the sweat stinging his eyes so that he could scarcely see. The heat was suffocating. He tore open his collar, nervously continued his search. There seemed to be stamps everywhere —but he couldn't find the one he wanted. Suddenly, the telephone rang. Its shrill, insistent note brought him to his feet. They must know downstairs that Reeves had come ‘in.

do was to stay put. He took a drag

on his cigaret, picked up a news-

paper. " z 2

ALF an hour later, the police

arrived. Bergen. still seated in

the lobby behind the newspaper. saw | the excited manager of the Lan- | caster Arms lead them to an ele-|

vator.

“They can’t get me!” Bergen mut- | No |

tered. “There are no clues!

clues!”

Twenty minutes later, he saw the | manager and one of the detectives emerge from an elevator. The man- | Bergen murmured something to ghe detec- | The two men came toward

ager, catching sight of tive. him. Nausea swept over Bergen. they couldn't know! Couldn't! There were no clues! “Mr. Bergen?” said the .detective, stopping before him. “Yes.” “Sorry to bother you, but there's been a murder upstairs. Mr. Reeves —the stamp collector.” “Good Lord!” exclaimed Bergin, in feigned horror. “I knew him! Poor Reeves!” The detective nodded. “The manager says you got the apartment above his, so I thought I'd like to talk to you. Maybe you seen or heard something that might help. Could you come upstairs to Mr. Reeves’ apartment?” “Right.” Bergen stood up. “Glad to answer any questions that may help to find the murderer, though I'm afraid I can be of little assistance to you.” on 8 ” NELED with relief that there was apparently no suspicion of him, Bergen started across the lobby. He had taken no more than three steps when the -detective's voice cracked whiplike behind him. “Stop. Don’t move!” Startled, Bergen obeyed. He felt the detective’s gun dig into his back. “So you want to help find the murderer, eh? Well, you have!” The | detective ripped Bergen'’s coat off. “Looks like you stamped. yourself as the killer!” : He held out the white linen jacket for Bergen to see. In the middle

of the back, stuck to the sweat- [*

dampened cloth, was the Cape of Good Hope Triangular!

THE END

(Copyright. 1937. by United Feature Syndicate, Inc.)

The characters in this storv are fictitious |

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Q—Why is Arizona sometimes called the “Baby State”? A—Because it was the last Federal territory to be admitted into the Union as a State. Q—Where is the original manuscript of the diary of Samuel F. B. Morse? A--In the History Division of the Smithsonian Institution, Washington, ID. C. Q—+—When did Jess Willard win the world’s heavyweight boxing championship from Jack Johnson? A—April 5, 1915. Q—Who were the architects for the Empire State Building in New York City? A—Shreve, Lamb and Harmon. Q—Where and when will the American Legion hold its next convention? A—New York City, Sept. 20 to 23, 1937. ; ; Q—Who is president of the U. S, Civil Service Commission and what is his politics? A—Harry B. Mitchell is a Democrat.

Q—Are British electric light bulbs different from those used in the

‘| United States?

A—Great Britain uses a different kind of base that instead of being

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HORIZONTAL 1 Pictured man. 12 Creed. 13 Biblical prophet.

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Answer to Previous Puzzle

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